


Survivors Price

by SpaceAsthmatic



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dol Guldur, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Good Parent Thranduil, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Death, Post-War of the Ring, Sad Thranduil, Sort Of, Third Age, War, but like right after, like hours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21756391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceAsthmatic/pseuds/SpaceAsthmatic
Summary: After the destruction of Dol Guldur, Celeborn finds Thranduil standing alone amongst the ruins, as heavy as the stone around him with the price of being the one to survive the ages.
Relationships: Celeborn & Thranduil (Tolkien)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 70





	Survivors Price

Celeborn watched Thranduil for perhaps five entire minutes, waiting to see if he would do anything. Anything at all. 

He didn’t. 

He just stood there, still like all the stone around him in what used to once be the great entrance hall of King Oropher’s great city. Reduced to not much more than a floor with a few pieces of shabby walls with years upon years of violence carved into the wall. 

It was difficult not to notice how time seemed to have the exact same effect on Thranduil. 

The delighted Prince of Menegroth who had found fun and games in everything if you wanted him to or not, who always seemed only one remark away from laughter and always with friends nearby had been carved into a King who stood by himself upon a battlefield littered with his people. 

Slowly, Celeborn went forward. Ensuring he didn’t step on anyone or anything. Thranduil didn’t look at him, but Celeborn knew there were very few people in the world that would dare attempt to approach the King of Greenwood the Great in a time like this and Thranduil could tell each and every one of them apart from the slightest sound of their breath. He knew that. 

Celeborn came to stand beside him, noticing the way the King’s eyes were fixed on the pale face of an archer and wondered if he had known him personally, “I’m sorry, Thranduil.” 

He knew by the tilt of his head that Thranduil was angry, he wondered how long he had been angry for. He wondered if there was anything strong enough to keep his heart beating anymore, “You weren’t there when Menegroth fell, were you?” 

“No. I wasn’t” 

Thranduil gave the slightest of nods, “The night the dwarves came I swore I would never hear a worse sound than everybody in my city crying and dying for mercy. And then the sons of Feanor came. Then Mordor, then my city was burned and my wife murdered, then years of war, then the mountain, and now this. And do you know what everybody said to me, each time?” 

Celeborn didn’t say anything, leaving Thranduil to answer his own question, “I’m sorry” 

It wasn’t until the hand that normally held his sword began to tremble slightly that Celeborn noticed Thranduil had dropped his sword which still lay at his feet, covered in blood. Thranduil continued, “Every time I swore that nothing could sound worse than that slaughter ever again. Every time I was sure that nothing could break my heart anymore than the last time. Every time I was proven wrong. Every time.” 

“Yet somehow,” Thranduil laughed a little, his teeth too white compared to the blood on his face, “Somehow, even surrounded by all this pain and suffering Mandos saw fit to take almost everybody but me. What did I do to deserve to see and hear and feel all of that, Celeborn? Am I truly that terrible?” 

“Thranduil, no.” Celeborn moved to that instead of standing to Thranduil’s side he was right in front of him, “No, you’re not terrible. You’re one of the best and more honorable elves I’ve ever met in my entire life. I have  _ never  _ seen such vicious love and loyalty from anybody or anything as your people show you on an everyday basis. Thingol and your father would be so proud of you.” 

Thranduil didn’t say anything, he just looked around at all the death and destruction around him. The heartbreak so plain to see upon his face that Celeborn almost wept to see it. His eyes so dull they might as well have been closed.

He took a hand up and grabbed Thranduil’s jaw and turned his face to make him look at his face, “Thranduil, there is no creature on earth who could have done what you’ve done. There is no soul, no heart, no mind, that could have kept any of your people alive at all. There is no will that could have inspired people against such darkness for so long. There’s nothing that could have taken your place.” 

A few tears slipped from Thranduil’s eyes, and Celeborn moved his hands from his jaw to wipe at them, “Mandos left you not because you are terrible, but because you are so uniquely phenomenal that the world could not spare to lose you. Your son could not bear to lose you.” 

At least the mention of Legolas got him to breathe again. Thranduil almost felt like cracked glass between Celeborn’s hands. He tore a piece of his clean undershirt off and poured a bit of water upon it from his waterskin and wiped all the blood and gore off of Thranduil’s face. 

Remembering vaguely how Celeborn had done this once before a lifetime ago, but then it was to clean all the dirt off Thranduil’s face before his mother saw it. Before he was even over his majority. 

“Sometimes,” Thranduil said, hardly above a whisper, “Sometimes all I want to do is close my eyes and not wake up. Not hear it again, or feel it again. Not do anything. Not be anything.” 

“Thranduil,” Celeborn breathed, shocked and heartbroken. 

More tears spilled from Thranduil’s eyes, as they continued to look at Celeborn but not really see him, “I’m so tired, Celeborn. I’m so hurt.” 

He knew there was about a fifty-fifty chance of getting punched in the face when he moved to hold Thranduil close, thankfully he didn’t seem to have enough fight left in him for an act like that. 

“So rest, Thranduil. Rest for days, months, years if you have to. Rest and remember all the good that brought you this far. Close your eyes the entire time if you want, as long as you are still here to open them when Legolas returns.” 

“If he doesn’t?” 

“No, no. He will. He’s your son, he’ll survive. Legolas would spit directly into Sauron's eye without flinching. He’ll come back to you” 

Thranduil pulled away, eyes almost dry, “Probably. And if he does he will be as ruined as I am. The most important and precious thing in my life and I couldn’t even protect him until he began his school lessons.” 

Thranduil turned and looked as if he planned to walk away but he stumbled on a few stray rocks, Celeborn reached for him automatically, “You did protect him. You protected his heart, and his spirit and his nature. You kept him good, pure, and full of laughter and joy. You protected him better than many parents in realms untouched by war and strife.” 

But Thranduil pulled away, his momentary defeat swelling back with anger again, “Like the parents that raised their children in your lands, free of war and strife.” 

Celeborn didn’t say anything at first, he knew when he was in a situation where everything he could possibly say would be wrong. He didn’t blame Thranduil for being angry, he couldn’t. Because if roles were reversed, and Celebrian had been forced to learn to kill and dispatch against her gentle nature he would be furious. 

With everything. 

So all he said was, “I’m so sorry, Thranduil.” 

He turned away from Celeborn, towards nothing in particular. He stood completely still for a while before a scream of heartbreak and rage overtook him and he slammed his fist into one of the few stone pillars left. And then three more times for good measure 

Celeborn winced at the sounds of each impact, and at the fresh blood that began to drip from Thranduil’s hand. There was so much emotion and nowhere for it to go. 

He was trying to come up with something else to say when another voice said, “Thranduil?” 

Celeborn turned, finding one of the several orphans that had come into Thrandui’s care over the years standing at the far end of the once entrance hall. She had been the one to bring Celeborn and Galadriel to Thranduil when they arrived, he could also remember her being a close friend of Legolas.’

“You’re not going to leave,” She asked, voice almost shaking, “are you?” 

Celeborn looked back to Thranduil, watching as the King’s heart finally seemed to be taking steady beats again. Pumped by something stronger than anger or spite. 

“Of course not, Ava.” Thranduil assured, taking a few steps towards her and opening his arms into which she hastened into, “Of course not, I would never leave you all. Never.” 

Love. 

Celeborn felt another approaching and began to make a slow retreat, Ferdan walked right past him without even a glance although he was certainly aware of his presence. Celeborn turned around, just as Ferdan reached the other two. 


End file.
